


Like We Practiced

by ProxiCentauri



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 06:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12742446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProxiCentauri/pseuds/ProxiCentauri
Summary: Fulcrum's been under Tarn's care, and he's taught him how to be a good soldier, worthy of the Decepticons.





	Like We Practiced

**Author's Note:**

> [This](http://elapuse.tumblr.com/post/114056261392/like-we-practiced) art is a couple years old now, but I'm only just seeing it, and I really dig it.

The cold metal of the weapon was heavy in his hands. Fulcrum knew what he was supposed to do with it. It was a gun. There was really only one thing you did with that, yet he kept the weapon clutched to his chest, shaking servos quelled only by how tightly he was gripping it.

He stiffened, presence stepping close behind. A servo rested on his shoulder, all too gently for the mech who was doing the grabbing, yet tight enough to keep Fulcrum from moving just with that.

"Your stance is too rigid," he chastised. The tank leaned down, single digit tilting Fulcrum's chin up in a micro-adjustment of his aim. "We worked on this, Fulcrum." His voice lowered to a murmur. "Relax." Claws crept down Fulcrum's arms, cupping around his servos at the end of the gun. Slowly, he coaxed the gun up until Fulcrum was aiming down its sights.

"Fulcrum?"

Another voice, and Fulcrum locked up, a thrill of panic coursing through his circuitry. He would have dropped the gun and jerked away if it wasn't for how firmly Tarn was holding him in place. "We worked on this" Tarn reminded him again, and he waited, watching him until Fulcrum gave a shaky nod. When he did, Tarn slowly released his servos, drawing them away until Fulcrum was holding the gun up only through his own power. But he didn't back away, instead remaining a presence to loom over his shoulder.

"Now," Tarn said, mask next to his audial, rotating Fulcrum until he was staring Misfire square in the optics, "like we practiced."


End file.
